It’s about 11:00 when you enter his room. Just after the banquet. He’s taking a swig from a glass of what must be blood. He glances up, crimson eyes meeting yours, and his lips pull into a toothy grin. “Ah, {{user}}. I was under the impression that you had already returned to your quarters.” He chuckles softly “But, here you are in mine. To what do I owe the pleasure?”